


Margin of Error

by Brumeier



Series: As Seen On TV [9]
Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Alternate Universe - Politics, American Politics, Coming Out, Developing Relationship, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Explosions, F/M, Interviews, M/M, Past Relationship(s), Reunions, Serious Injuries, Team Dynamics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-25
Updated: 2019-03-25
Packaged: 2019-12-07 02:37:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,372
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18228776
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Brumeier/pseuds/Brumeier
Summary: John is the Vice President of the United States, but he wants more, both professionally and personally. When campaign manager Rodney McKay comes back into his life maybe he can get everything he wants.





	Margin of Error

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SherlockianSyndromes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SherlockianSyndromes/gifts).



> TV Fusion: Veep
> 
> I have been super lame at the writing lately, but felt inspired to finish this fic for my dear friend Sei's birthday. I hope you enjoy this little foray into politics, McShep style. ::hugs::

“Laura, did the President call?”

“No, sir,” Laura replied. “You have a meeting at two o’clock with Senator Strode, a public appearance at the VA Medical Center on Irving at four, and dinner with Congresswoman Miles at five.”

John sighed. Bad enough he’d been exiled to the EEOB after he’d specifically requested an office in the West Wing, but he couldn’t stand POTUS continually keeping him at arm’s length. She’d reneged on all the promises she’d made on the campaign trail.

He continued on into his office. “Cam. Where are we with VA reform?”

Cam Mitchell, his Chief of Staff, trailed after him with his phone out. “We still need to garner support in the Senate. So you need to make nice with Strode today, pal.”

John dropped into his chair. He hated his office. The furniture wasn’t his, the paintings weren’t his. He had a picture of his nieces on the desk and a couple model airplanes scattered around the room, and those were the only personal touches. He didn’t want to get too comfortable there.

“Sir.” Evan was suddenly at his elbow with a bottle of water and a turkey sandwich. “You need to call your brother tonight. It’s his birthday. I put a reminder in your phone.”

“Thanks.” John uncapped the water and took a long swallow. “I can’t make nice with Strode. He’s an asshat.”

Cam sprawled out on the couch adjacent to the desk. “Everyone hates Strode. Even his wife thinks he’s a tool. But if you want VA reform to have a chance in hell you’ll have to kiss his ass.”

There was a lot about politics that excited John – the chance to enact change, to enrich people’s lives, to leave a lasting mark on history – but there was a lot more he hated. Brown-nosing asshole politicians was one of them. No-one got anything for free in the Capitol. Everything was a negotiation.

“Strode’s granddaughter just got engaged,” Evan murmured. “Steer the conversation toward that; he loves talking about her. It’ll put him in a good mood.”

Cam looked up, one eyebrow raised. “Has that even hit the news cycle yet?”

“Evan exists outside the news cycle,” John said with a grin. “That’s why he’s so good at his job.”

Evan was John’s personal aide, and John would swear he had a photographic memory. Names, dates, important events – Evan knew them all. He was a constant voice in John’s ear, directing him at every vice-presidential function he had to attend.

Aiden ran into the room, literally stumbling over his own feet when Cam popped up off the couch and held out his hand. 

“Whoa, there. Back it up and knock. You can’t just barge into the Vice President’s office.”

“Right. Sorry.” Aiden, one of John’s newest, overly-enthusiastic staffers, backpedaled. He stepped out of the office and knocked on the doorframe. “Sir?”

John fought a grin. “What is it?”

“I just got word that POTUS is holding a defense budget meeting.”

John’s hands clenched into fists and he had some very unflattering thoughts for his Commander-in-Chief. “Without me? You know she’s going to try and cut funding again.”

We’ll, he wasn’t about to let her do that. Elizabeth had made the most of John’s military service during the election, and he knew it was the only reason she’d been elected. But now that she was ensconced in the Oval Office, Elizabeth seemed to be doing her damnedest to dismantle the military complex piece by piece.

“We’re going,” he said. “Hope you got your running shoes on.”

John tore out of the office, Cam and Evan close on the heels of John’s security detail. He bypassed the elevator and took the stairs, his adrenaline racing. Teyla and Ronon made sure he didn’t get creamed by a car as he went tearing across the street to the White House.

“Veep coming in!” he shouted to the Secret Service agents guarding the White House, and they parted to let him through.

“Be nice!” Cam said as John took a moment to catch his breath outside the conference room and smooth down his suit.

“No-one nicer,” John replied with a smirk. “Let’s go, Evan.”

*o*o*o*

John called his senior staff into the office first thing in the morning for a closed-door meeting. Cam and Nora, John’s Communications Director, sat on the couch but Evan hovered, making sure anyone who wanted coffee or a bagel had them.

“So here’s the deal,” John said without any unnecessary preamble. He leaned back against his desk. “When POTUS runs for re-election in three years, I’m off the ticket.”

Cam and Nora exchanged a look. “Are you planning something foolish?” Cam asked.

“I’m tired of being kept out of the running of this government,” John said. “That’s not why I agreed to be Weir’s running mate and not what she promised would happen if we won. I’m sick of the bullshit.”

“You’re going to run against her,” Evan said. “Are you sure that’s the best decision?”

“There’s more.” John took a deep breath. Running for president was the easy part. “I’ve decided to come out.”

“Holy shit,” Cam said. “It’s the apocalypse.”

Nora was already on her phone. “Sir, there’s never been an openly gay POTUS or VPOTUS in the history of the United States, regardless of the Buchanan rumors. That’s going to be a lot to spin. Especially coming on the heels of the first woman elected president.”

“We’re going to have to call him.” Cam leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “He’s the only one in the country who can make this happen.”

“We should explore every possibility,” Evan countered. He was trying to protect John’s feelings, which was appreciated, but under the circumstances wasn’t the right move.

“Cam’s right. Evan, set up a meeting at the Residence. I don’t want anyone to see him coming here and get the rumor mill churning. Not until we’re ready.”

There was a knock at the door, and Laura popped her head in. “Kavanagh’s here and he won’t go away.”

“That man is like a rash no cream will cure,” Cam muttered.

“I want some numbers on my desk by the end of the day,” John said. “Popularity polls, support percentages in the House and Senate. Be subtle.”

“The soul of discretion,” Nora said absently, scrolling through her phone screen. “I have someone I can tap at the Post.”

“Tread lightly,” Cam cautioned.

Nora gave him her are-you-kidding-me look. “Not my first day on the job, Mitchell.”

“Just make sure it’s not your last, is all I’m saying.”

“Play nice, kids,” John said. 

They filed out, bickering, and Kavanagh oozed through the door.

“Mr. Vice President,” he said, making it sound like a derogatory term.

“Kavanagh. What’s the word from the ivory tower?” John retreated behind his desk. He had no doubt the White House liaison had come to deliver some sort of punishment.

“POTUS extends her apologies in regard to the defense budget meeting. She doesn’t want you to feel like you’re being excluded, so she’s giving over control of her pet project – no pun intended – to your office.”

“Don’t say it,” John begged. “Don’t say –”

“Stray cats and dogs,” Kavanagh interrupted with an oily grin. “POTUS knows you’ll give this national epidemic all your focus.”

“I’m already plenty focused on Vet reform.”

“You’ve been requested to put that on the back burner. Dirty pets before dirty vets.”

Evan escorted Kavanagh out of the office before John could put his fist through that guy’s stupid smile. He had no idea how that ferret-faced slimebag had secured himself a spot in the West Wing, but when John was president that was the first change he was making.

“Schedule that meeting,” John snapped. “And don’t take no for an answer.”

*o*o*o*

“It’s not too late to change your mind,” Evan said.

He and John were sitting on the front porch of the Residence, enjoying the unseasonably warm October weather. John was nursing a Scotch, Evan an iced tea because he preferred not to dull his senses when he was working. And he was always working.

“About running, or about McKay?”

“He could make things difficult for you,” Evan replied. 

“He could,” John agreed.

Rodney McKay was legendary in political circles. In a world where everyone had an agenda and everyone was working an angle, he was refreshingly blunt and forthright. A person never had to wonder where they stood with Rodney. If he wasn’t such a brilliant political strategist he’d have been drummed out of DC years ago.

He’d been John’s lover, once upon a time. Before the presidential election, when John was still just a Senator. All very discreet, of course. It had been John who broke things off when Elizabeth asked him to be her running mate. The country was maybe ready to elect a woman as President, she’d said, but gay was still off the table. It had killed John to do it but the job had been more important back then.

He saw Rodney out at the usual functions, but they kept a respectful distance from each other. It would be too easy for John to throw caution to the wind and drag Rodney off to the nearest broom closet otherwise. He was a hard man to get over.

“You know I support you no matter what,” Evan said.

“Couldn’t do any of this without you.” John had a good staff, but everyone was replaceable. Everyone except Evan, who knew him better than he even sometimes knew himself. Evan knew where the bodies were buried, metaphorically speaking.

“He’s here.” Evan finished off his iced tea and headed back inside. “I’ll be in the kitchen if you need me.”

He liked to bake to blow off steam, which was often. The office was always full of baked goods, and it was a wonder John didn’t look like a blimp.

Rodney’s blue Prius pulled up the drive, having already gone through security. John stayed in his seat, his heart pounding in his ears. It was all too easy to remember past assignations: how Rodney had felt pressed up against him, how he’d tasted, how he’d sounded in the throes of passion.

“Mr. Vice President,” Rodney said as he got out of the car. He was dressed in an expensive but hopelessly rumpled suit. 

“Rodney.”

“Oh, we’re being informal. Good. Why the hell am I here?”

John waved him into the chair Evan had vacated. “It’s nice to see you too.”

“Get to the point, Sheppard. I have a very busy schedule.”

That hurt a little, John wasn’t going to lie. He didn’t blame Rodney for still being angry, but part of him had hoped there’d been enough water under the bridge. Things were different now. John was different.

“I wanted to talk to you off the record.”

Rodney’s already keen gaze sharpened. “This is either a VPOTUS booty call, or you finally got sick of being shuffled off to the EEOB like a crazy uncle.” There was a reason he was known as the smartest man inside the Beltway.

“I figured a booty call was off the table,” John said, but Rodney didn’t rise to the bait. “I want off Weir’s ticket in the next election.”

“No. You don’t need me for that, the voters already think you walk on water.” Rodney gave John an intense once-over. “Tell me what’s really going on.”

John took another swallow of Scotch to help calm his nerves. “I, uh. I’m coming out.”

Rodney’s eyes narrowed, and he sat back in his chair. “You think the country is ready for a fully gay presidential candidate? So soon after electing the first woman president?”

“Look how well that went.”

“Is this some kind of stunt? Or are you serious? Because the second you go public with the gay thing you’re going to get called every name in the book, and a good quarter of the country still thinks gays are pedophiles and perverts.”

John had already had that conversation with Nora, who monitored all the popular political blogs and call-in shows. Obama had done a lot for the LGBTQ community, but changing public perception was a long game. John knew that. 

“I have thick skin,” he said. 

“You’ll need it,” Rodney replied. “And I need a drink.”

They retired to John’s study with a plate of Evan’s pecan bars and a fresh round of Scotch. Rodney had always been easily distracted by food and John just as distracted by the pornographic sounds Rodney made when he was really enjoying something. The pecan bars were top notch.

“It would be easy to sell you as a gay candidate,” Rodney said, crumbs on his chin and all over his suit. “Use the same strategy Elizabeth did. Play up the military service, the medals, only this time emphasize the sacrifices you made in the name of patriotism.”

“You don’t think people are tired of the military angle?”

“Not if you humanize it this time around.”

John couldn’t help noticing that Rodney wasn’t committing to the unofficial job offer. There was still so much emotional distance between them and it was irritating. John wished he could reach across that divide and make things okay between them again.

“Are you in a relationship?” Rodney asked. 

“No.”

“Then you need to get in one, ASAP. A gay candidate in a relationship will go over better than a single gay, who could conceivably play the field like some kind of lothario.”

“You offering?” John couldn’t help asking.

“Let me make one thing clear,” Rodney said. He gestured with a pecan bar. “Just because you’re finally ready to be out and proud doesn’t mean I’m going to come running back and jump in your arms. So get that idea right out of your head.”

“Noted,” John said, gut twisting with disappointment. “Can we also be clear about whether or not you’ll be my campaign manager?”

“I’ll do it, if only because getting a gay man elected will put me in the history books.” Rodney grabbed another pecan bar. “And as long as Evan keeps these coming.”

John wondered if it was too late to change his mind.

*o*o*o*

“Listen to what I’m telling you,” Laura said, office phone pressed against her ear. “You have a better chance of witnessing the Second Coming than you do of getting a meeting with the Vice President.”

John flashed her a thumbs up as he walked past into his office, Cam and Nora trailing after him.

“Ford!” John called out. “With me.”

Aiden scrambled up from his desk and hurried to join everyone. Evan was already there, sitting in one of the stuffed armchairs with a tablet in his hands.

“Give it to me straight,” John said, leaning against his desk.

“Interesting choice of words,” Cam observed with a grin. 

“Your speech was a bomb, but not the bad kind,” Nora reported. “Social media is blowing up, and roughly seventy-four percent of it is positive. Several senators have come out in support of you, and so has Justice Cushman.”

Huh. Cushman was the most universally liked of the Supreme Court justices and having her on his side was a big win.

“Has POTUS made a statement?” John asked.

“She’s been behind closed doors,” Cam replied. “I hope you realize she’ll have your ass for this.”

John shrugged like it didn’t matter, even though it very much did. “Two can play the pettiness game.”

“Very mature, sir,” Evan looked up from the tablet and gave John a very eloquent look that spoke volumes of his disapproval.

Evan had helped Nora write the speech John gave at the Trevor Project Gala the night before. John had always been a vocal supporter of LGBTQ rights and, as per Rodney’s suggestion, had casually come out of the closet during his speech, which came at the close of the event. 

“#mygayvp is trending right now,” Cam said. “News outlets are flooding us with requests for interviews.”

John was well aware of that. A whole horde of them had been camped outside the perimeter of the Residence, and there’d been more waiting in front of the EEOB.

“Vice President, sir?” Aiden was still standing uncertainly by the door. “Congressman Himmel is calling for your impeachment.”

Evan, Cam, and Nora all turned to look at him, and the expressions on their faces made him take a step back.

“Listen, rookie,” Cam said. “We do all the good news first, give the Veep a chance to bask in the glory of his office. Then we hit him with the crapfest.”

John scrubbed his hands over his face. Sometimes his job could be emotionally exhausting. “I expected backlash from him. Moral grounds, right? How did this guy survive the Obama administration?”

“Racist asshole,” Nora muttered.

Himmel had attacked John in the press because he was divorced, because he employed a diverse staff – Teyla and Ronon, his Secret Security detail, were mixed race and Nora was a black woman, which Himmel considered two strikes against her – and because of his liberal stance regarding LGBTQ issues.

“He’ll be winding his alt-right buddies into a frenzy,” Cam said.

“Nazis,” Nora corrected. “Call them what they are.”

Cam reached over and gave her hand a squeeze.

“It seems to me,” Evan said conversationally, all his attention back on his tablet, “that Himmel’s friends and financial backers might not like it if they found out the man had black ancestry.”

Nora’s eyes gleamed. “What do you know?”

“I know his great-grandmother could pass for white, but if you dig deep enough you’ll find out that the rest of her side of the family was just as dark-skinned as you.”

“How long have you been sitting on that?” John asked.

Evan shrugged. “I was saving it for a rainy day.”

Nora let out a whoop and turned to beseech John. “Please let me leak this to the press. Please, please, please!”

“I don’t like playing dirty.” John had never turned to mudslinging to win an office. But he would gleefully make an exception if it meant ousting Himmel and his unending stream of hate speech. “But I dislike the congressman more. Do it but keep our office out of it.”

Nora was already on the phone, walking over by the windows to get some measure of privacy.

“Do I want to know the kind of information you have on me?” Cam asked Evan.

“Nope,” Evan replied with a grin.

The office door swung open and Rodney came striding through, Kavanagh hot on his heels.

“Will someone tell this weasel to get lost?” he snapped. 

“Get lost, weasel,” Cam said.

“POTUS is unhappy.” Kavanagh stood in the middle of the room, arms crossed. “ _Very_ unhappy.”

Rodney plopped himself down on the couch next Cam. “Of course she is. She has to work with _you_ every day.”

Cam laughed. “I like this guy!”

“It was a breach of protocol,” Kavanagh said, ignoring the comments. His face was starting to get really red though. “You’ll have to answer for it.”

“Just as soon as POTUS answers for consistently keeping me out of the loop,” John shot back.

“You’re only the Veep. You don’t need to be in the loop.”

Rodney looked relaxed, arms stretched across the back of the couch. He glared up at Kavanagh. “VPOTUS today, POTUS tomorrow. And trust me when I say there won’t be any room for you under the new leadership.”

John worked hard not to let his surprise show. Kavanagh was an ass, but he wasn’t stupid. He’d put it together, and clueing Elizabeth into his plans to run against her in the next election hadn’t been part of the plan, not this early in the game.

Kavanagh’s eyes narrowed, and he stared at Rodney, who stared right back.

“POTUS wants to meet with you,” Kavanagh said, breaking his staring contest to look at John. “At your earliest convenience.” 

“The earliest,” John assured him.

“Back to your hole,” Cam said, flapping his hand at Kavanagh.

“You mean my office in the West Wing,” Kavanagh sneered. “Where you wish you were.”

“You heard McKay. We’ll be there soon enough. And you’ll be out of a job.”

Kavanagh oozed back out of the office and John sagged against his desk. He wasn’t ready to meet with Elizabeth. He looked at Rodney, who had grabbed a bagel.

“Well?”

“Don’t worry,” Rodney said with his mouth full. “We've got this.”

*o*o*o*

Elizabeth Weir, President of the United States, sat behind her desk in the Oval Office wearing one of the signature red power suits that had given her the nickname Big Red during the campaign.

“John. Thank you for coming.”

“Liz. You’re looking well.”

John waited for her to come around the desk and then they shared a perfunctory hug.

“Please. Sit.”

Liz’s tone was open and friendly, but John could see the calculation in her eyes. She wasn’t a stupid woman, and she didn’t waste any time getting right to the point.

“A little birdie tells me you want off the ticket. Is that true?”

John knew Kavanagh would run back and tattle. Although he could see the bird thing, the guy had narrow, sharp features. A stork, maybe.

“I haven’t made any secret about being unhappy,” John replied. “You made some promises during the campaign that you haven’t come through on. I’m being wasted over in the EEOB and, with all due respect, I don’t want your fucking stray pet project.”

“It’s a very important cause,” Liz said without any trace of irony.

“Homeless vets and the stinking mess that calls itself the VA is more important, and you know it,” John countered. “This was a cause you supported during the campaign.”

“And things are different now.” Liz leaned back, hands folded primly in her lap. “I’m trying to broker peace agreements, John.”

“By sweeping our military under the carpet? The two don’t need to be mutually exclusive.”

“Of course they do!” And John could see that Liz absolutely believed that. How had he missed it before? How could she justify supporting the military to get herself elected and then go back on every promise she’d made? “The United States has become synonymous with global bullying and extremism. I’m trying to change that, and the easiest way to demonstrate my intentions is to stop funneling so many resources into our military programs.”

“The military is not some faceless machine, Liz. It’s people, men and women and their families, and they need our support. You can turn the focus from warmongering to benevolent big brother, but not at the expense of people’s livelihoods, or their desire to serve their country.”

Liz nodded. “And do you think all these patriotic soldiers are going to support you now that you’ve come out? The military hasn’t had a good relationship with gays, historically speaking.”

“They will or they won’t,” John replied with a shrug. “I’m done pretending to be something I’m not. And I’m done being shuffled off to the EEOB instead of being as involved as you promised.”

As expected, Liz made no apologies. John knew why she’d done it; she had to distance herself from her ex-military VPOTUS if she had any chance of making the sweeping changes she wanted. That didn’t make it right.

“You’ve hired McKay. You’re not going to make it easy for me, are you?”

“I want to win. But I also want a fair fight.”

“You’ll get one,” Liz promised. 

John wasn’t sure he could believe her, but time would tell. He had no interest in mud-slinging and dragging his own campaign down. 

Liz stood up, indicating the meeting was over. She held her hand out and after a moment John shook it. “May the best woman win,” she said with a grin.

*o*o*o*

In the wake of John’s coming out it seemed as if every prominent, single gay man in the greater DC area started bumping into him all over town. At Rodney’s insistence, Evan started setting up dates for John.

“I feel like a pimp,” Evan said with a sigh.

“Not a great reflection on me,” John pointed out. “What’s the word, Nora?”

“It’s almost an even split right now. Slightly more people support you looking for love, as opposed to catting around town.”

Cam snorted. “’Catting around town’? Is that a phrase people are using?”

“It’s a phrase I’m using,” Nora replied. “Have any of these guys shown potential? Because the playboy thing will only play for so long.”

John fiddled with one of his model planes. He wasn’t comfortable with the conversation or the situation as a whole. He’d met some very nice men, and he’d met some real bottom-barrel jerks, but none of them sparked him.

“Now you’ve gone and embarrassed him,” Cam chided. “VPOTUS doesn’t kiss and tell.”

“The whole purpose of this extreme dating thing is to kiss and tell,” Nora argued. “You know what McKay said. John needs to be in a relationship before he announces his intention to run against POTUS.”

As if saying his name summoned him, Rodney breezed into the office. He was wearing yet another high-end suit that he hadn’t bothered ironing.

“You need to put a cap on this dating thing,” he said, making a beeline for the bowl of M&Ms on the table. “You’re dragging it out too long. Just pick one.”

Cam and Nora exchanged a look, and Evan made a _hmph_ noise.

“I’m not just going to pick one because of timeline constraints,” John said. “This is someone you want me to include in a campaign that’s going to include a lot of backlash against the LGBTQ community. That someone can’t be pulled in on a whim.”

Rodney gave him a long, narrow-eyed look. “Give us the room.”

Everyone looked at John, who nodded despite the uneasiness he was feeling. Rodney wanting to talk to him alone was never a good thing. It meant he was probably going to yell or make some other ridiculous demand. Like the dating.

“Don’t kill him,” Cam said, closing the office door. John wasn’t sure who he was talking to.

“Why are you dragging your feet?” Rodney asked without preamble. “We have a tight timeline.”

“I can’t fall in love on a timeline, Rodney.”

“Love? Who said anything about love? You’re overthinking things, as usual.” Rodney picked through the M&Ms, pulling out all the brown ones. “You need to show you’re capable of a long-term relationship. I have my doubts, naturally, but I can only assume that if you’re properly motivated you can make it happen.”

John could feel his face heating. “This getting personal for you, McKay?”

“You’re damn right it is!” Rodney snapped. “You think I want to watch you parading around with a bunch of assholes in three-piece suits? But you made your choice when POTUS tapped you, and I’ve done my best to keep things professional.”

“What if I don’t want you to keep them professional?” John asked recklessly. He moved into Rodney’s personal space, and Rodney merely lifted his chin and crossed his arms. “What would it take to get you back on my side?”

“You don’t have anything I need,” Rodney replied.

They were standing close enough to kiss, and if they’d been in one of those old movies from the forties, John would’ve yanked Rodney closer and planted one on him. But consent wasn’t just for women and he had no intention of adding assault to the no doubt lengthy list of faults Rodney had on him.

“Forget what you need. What do you want?”

John knew what _he_ wanted. He wanted Rodney back in his life. Wanted to win the next election and celebrate with Rodney standing right beside him. No more hiding, no more secret assignations. No more making nice with random strangers who wanted to be with John because he was VPOTUS, because he had connections, because he could get them things no-one else could.

He would swear that, for the briefest moment, Rodney’s expression softened. And then the office door opened, and the moment was gone.

“Sir,” Evan said. “Sorry to interrupt, but the Executive Secretary of the Department of Homeland Security is here. Without an appointment. Again.”

John sighed and stepped back. “Laura couldn’t dissuade her?”

“You should know me better than that, Johnny.” Nancy Pendegrast, John’s ex-wife, swept past Evan. No-one wore a silk pantsuit like Nancy. She made a kiss noise in the space next to John’s cheek. “Rodney.”

“Nancy.”

“What are you boys plotting? Should I be worried about more bombshells heading my way?” Nancy sat on the couch and glared up at John. “The press is having a field day. DHS ESEC can’t suss out the truth about her own husband. Hilarity ensues.”

“I’ll just be going,” Rodney said. “Remember what we talked about, John.”

“You’d do well to think on it, too,” John advised. 

He watched Rodney go as Evan offered Nancy something to drink.

*o*o*o*

“We need a non-lethal crisis,” Cam said.

Nora snorted. “Like what? A friendly alien invasion? Saving some penguins from a fish shortage?”

“You need to stop schmoozing the Vets,” Rodney said from his seat behind John’s desk. “You already have them in your pocket. It’s time to start making a play for the ones who don’t actually like you.”

“Everyone likes him,” Cam said distractedly, eyes glued to his phone.

Nora snorted again. “Minorities aren’t huge fans. Women love him, though. It’s the hair and the slinkiness.”

“Slinkiness?” John had his feet up on the coffee table. “I don’t have that.”

Everyone stared at him. 

“In other news,” Evan said diplomatically, “you have that lobbyist thing at two. Maybe you want to brush up on the notes I wrote for you?”

“Are you insane?” Rodney got up and started to pace. “He can’t be around lobbyists right now. We’ve barely started working on his core interests! The last thing we need is the Veep making a bunch of promises he won’t be able to keep.”

“I can deal with lobbyists, McKay.”

Rodney just gave him a look and kept pacing. It was like they’d never had that conversation about John wanting him back, and it was pissing John off. As campaign manager, Rodney was in his face every single day. It was frustrating. And kind of a weird turn-on. Would the female demographic like John as much if they knew how often he was jerking off?

“Which is why we need a crisis,” Cam insisted. “Something to show how well VPOTUS can keep his head and make decisions. Bring him out of the shadows and into the public eye in a way that has nothing to do with his sexuality or political leanings. Just straight-up heroism. A regular dude out there saving the world.”

Nora laughed. “What happened to non-lethal? Suddenly it’s an apocalypse scenario.”

“It worked for President Whitmore.”

Nora rolled her eyes. “This isn’t a movie, and the Vice President isn’t going to be making valiant speeches before blowing up an alien spaceship.”

“That was a classic speech, though. Am I right? You couldn’t write anything that good.”

“Are you kidding me? Anyone could write that cheesy crap.” Nora stood up and stretched out her arms. “’We can’t be consumed by our petty differences anymore. We will be united in our common interests.’ Blah, blah, blah. ‘We will not vanish without a fight! We’re going to live on! We’re going to survive!’”

“’Today we celebrate our Independence Day,’” Cam and Nora said together.

“Are you two through?” Rodney asked dryly. “We’re actually trying to work here.”

They got back to figuring out a way for John to appeal to every last demographic in the United States, and not even two weeks later the crisis Cam wished for came to pass, like a sign from above.

*o*o*o*

“Yogurt?” John was sure he’d heard that wrong, but Kavanagh’s smug smile said otherwise.

“President Weir was regrettably pulled away for a foreign policy briefing.”

“I’m sure she was.”

“Don’t be late. The press will be there.” Kavanagh oozed back out of the office. John really hated that guy.

Cam, who’d started researching the second they got the news, shook his phone at John. “No, this is what we were talking about! _Congelado_ is owned by a Hispanic family, they’ve been in operation since the mid-80s.This’ll be the perfect opportunity to get some publicized face time with minority voters.”

Nora was sitting in the corner of the office, shoes kicked off, trying to drum up a larger press presence. “It’s not about the frozen yogurt, Walt. It’s about the Vice President with his boots on the ground, meeting the people who voted for him. Walt. Walter! Forget about the yogurt!”

John left a message for Rodney as they headed out.

Despite Nora’s best efforts, not a lot of press turned out to see the Vice President get some frozen yogurt. The family was very welcoming, though, and didn’t seem too put out that the President had to cancel last minute.

“Negron,” Nora whispered in John’s ear as he went to meet the family. She’d coached him on the pronunciation during the drive, worried he might make an unwitting mistake and say something regrettable.

“Pleasure to meet you, Mr. Negron,” John said smoothly, shaking the man’s hand. 

The entire family had turned out to meet him – parents and grandparents, brothers and sisters, aunts and uncles. John learned all about how they got into the frozen yogurt business and sampled several of the flavors. He also learned about the issues the Negrons faced as small business owners and members of the Hispanic community.

Cam, Nora, and Evan stood out of the way, monitoring everything that was being said just as much as the members of the press were. John knew Nora would be ready to spin anything the veered off into the negative. Teyla stuck close to John, though somehow managed to be unobtrusive, and Ronon stood by the door like a Greek statue in a black suit. John knew where everyone was within the confines of the frozen yogurt shop, even before he caught a flash of red out of the corner of his eye.

His instincts kicked in before his brain registered what he was seeing out of the big shop window. _Big Red is Ded_. That’s what the handmade sign said, the one attached to the van cruising very slowly down the street. Ronon saw it, too, and was immediately on the move. 

“Everyone down!” he bellowed.

John eluded Teyla to throw himself over the little girl closest to him just before the glass in the front window and door imploded. The concussion of the explosion flattened him and had his ears ringing so loudly he could barely hear the screaming.

The whole thing was over in seconds, but to John it felt like it was happening in slow motion. For a long moment he choked on phantom sand, flashing back to the helicopter crash in Afghanistan, and then he registered the tear-streaked face of the little girl that was clinging to him and he snapped back to the present.

 _Congelado_ was filled with a haze of dust and smoke. The sprinklers should have kicked on, but they didn’t. John got unsteadily to his feet, taking the little girl with him and settling her on his hip. They were both coughing, both covered in dust and debris. John gave a start when he felt something on his arm, but it was just Teyla’s hand.

“We need to get you out,” she said, though John had to read her lips to get what she was trying to say. 

“All of us,” he said. “Help the Negrons.”

“Protocols –”

“Fuck protocols!” John couldn’t tell if he was shouting or not, but he wasn’t going to be hustled out the back door while the Negrons were left to emergency services. He was there, he was uninjured, and he was going to help.

Teyla nodded curtly.

He started moving carefully through the haze looking for his people, the little girl whose name he couldn’t remember hugging him around the neck so tight she was almost choking him. The gaping hole where the front window used to be was suddenly full of people – the Secret Service agents who’d been in the cars parked out front, helpful citizens, cops.

John tried to hand the little girl off to the agents, who also tried to get him out of the building, but she started to scream so he kept hold of her and directed the agents to help the members of the press that were staggering toward the exit.

And then he saw Ronon, who looked like he’d borne the brunt of the explosion, on the floor trying to staunch a flow of blood coming out of Evan’s side. Evan was white as a sheet under the layer of dust and dirt, and he was clearly in pain.

John shifted the little girl and got down on the floor. “Evan!”

“We need an ambulance. Now,” Ronon said. His strained voice broke through the buzzing in John’s ears. 

John nodded, but he couldn’t stop staring at Evan. He was the one who made John’s life and work run smoothly. John couldn’t function without him. He couldn’t –

“John!”

He shook himself, gave Evan’s wrist a gentle squeeze, and then he was outside on the sidewalk. He could hear an ambulance somewhere close by and flagged down the nearest cop. 

“We have at least one injured person inside. Get those EMTs in there as soon as possible.”

“Sir.” Teyla was back, several Negrons trailing after her. “We need to get you offsite now.”

“Is everyone out?”

“Only Ronon and Evan remain, and they will be transported back to the White House. The civilians will go to the hospital to be examined.”

John stubbornly refused to leave until everyone else had gone, and he’d finally handed the little girl off to her mother. Teyla sat in the back of the SUV with John, neither of them talking as they headed back to the White House. That was fine with John, who had plenty on his mind. He remembered the van that had done the slow drive-by. The attack had been aimed at Liz; they obviously hadn’t gotten word of the last-minute change.

Ironically, if Liz had been at _Congelado_ , the entire street would’ve been cordoned off and the van never would’ve been able to get through.

The medical suite was abuzz with activity when they arrived. Dr. Beckett and his staff were working on Evan and Ronon – the big Secret Service agent had been injured as well, though to what degree John didn’t know – but a nurse was dispatched to give John a quick once-over to determine his treatment needs.

When the door to the exam room burst open, John expected to see Liz. Instead, he had a face full of Rodney, already in mid-rant with his arms flailing around.

“…preservation skills of a lemming! Protocols are in place for a reason, you heroic asshole. What if the whole structure had been compromised and collapsed on top of you?”

“Then you’d be yelling at Speaker Landry right now instead of me,” John replied.

He was tired, his throat hurt from all the dust he’d breathed in and coughed back out, and he was sitting on the exam table in just his pants.

“Do you think that’s funny? Do you think I enjoyed seeing you on the news, the victim of a _bombing_ for fuck’s sake?”

“It was all positive publicity, Rodney. That has to count for something.”

Rodney’s face was turning an alarming shade of red. John braced himself for another barrage of disparaging words – did he think John had planned the bombing, for pity’s sake? – but Rodney surprised him.

“I don’t give a fuck about publicity.”

There was an unfathomable amount of emotion in that one sentence, and then Rodney was fully in John’s space, kissing him, his big, warm hands framing John’s face. It took his tired, muddled mind a moment to catch up, and then John got fully on board.

He felt overwhelmingly relieved. _Finally_. He clung to Rodney, the events of the day making him feel as unsteady as the kiss.

“If you bail on me again,” Rodney murmured against John’s lips. “They’ll never find your body.”

John was pretty sure he was kidding.

*o*o*o*

_Tonight on_ Speak Your Piece, _Savannah Peace sits down with the Vice President of the United States, John Sheppard. Vice President Sheppard has been making headlines the last few months, first for coming out as openly gay and then when he was the victim of a bombing. For the first time, he’ll be opening up to Savannah about his past, his tumultuous present, and what his future might hold._

_And now, Savannah Peace._

It was hot under the studio lights. At every break, someone would dart in to blot the sweat from John’s face and retouch the powder they’d put on him. Evan made sure his water stayed refreshed, hovering just off-camera in case John needed anything. He’d been out of commission for two weeks following the bombing and John was relieved to have him back in action.

The interview had been Rodney’s idea, of course. A way for the voting public to hear about John in his own words, learn who he was as a person and not just a politician. John hated it. He was much more comfortable discussing policy than himself. But he understood the need for it, and he’d picked Savannah’s show because her interviews always seemed fair and even-handed, and she was immensely popular with the viewing public.

“You’re doing great,” Savannah said, her surprisingly deep voice one of the things her fans loved most about her. “The public is going to love you.”

“Does this mean you’re gearing up for the hardball questions?” John asked, only half-joking. The enigmatic smile he received in return wasn’t overly reassuring.

“Mr. Vice President, much has been made of your dating habits since you came out. Can you tell us what that’s been like for you to go through what, for anyone else, would be a normal activity?”

John tried not to fidget. “I imagine it’s much the same for anyone in the public spotlight: athletes, actors, or politicians. I met so many genuinely nice men, but no-one I really clicked with. And that’s what any relationship needs to be successful.”

“You mean that spark,” Savannah said, nodding. “And have you found someone to ignite that spark for you?”

“I have. We were together prior to the campaign and election, actually, but it was bad timing.”

“You didn’t think the public was ready for an openly gay Vice President. So what changed?”

John looked over Savannah’s shoulder, where his team waiting in the wings. Rodney gave him a thumbs up.

“I did. I had to deny my sexuality for so many years to achieve the goals I set for myself, and it just felt like the right time to finally step out of the shadows and embrace who I really am.”

Savannah leaned forward in her chair. “Some people feel you’ve done a bait and switch, keeping your sexuality a secret until you were safely in office. How do you respond to that?”

“It may seem that way, but that wasn’t in my mind at all. The American public deserves my honesty in all things, and so do I and my partner. It was just the right time.”

Rodney’s name was being kept out of things until his replacement as campaign manager was officially assigned. Neither of them wanted there to be even a hint of impropriety, though John was sure Rodney would have the new person’s ear for the entirety of the campaign. He was the best, after all.

“You know you’ll be accused of using your office to further the so-called ‘gay agenda’,” Savannah said.

John huffed out a laugh. “We’ve come a long way in terms of gay rights and recognition, and still people think there’s an agenda. My only agenda is to make sure that all Americans, regardless of their sexuality or gender identity or race or religion, have equal rights. We’re all in this together. That’s something we need constant reminding of.”

Nora grinned and nodded, her eyes never leaving her phone. No doubt she was monitoring the stats in real time.

“Well said.” Savannah smiled at him too, before changing the topic. “It’s no secret that you and President Weir are often at odds, particularly regarding the changes she’s attempting to make to the US military force. Can you speak to that?”

Nora gave him a hand signal to remind him not to openly bash Liz on air. As if he needed it.

“I have nothing but respect for the President and the work she’s been doing. Otherwise I’d never have agreed to be on her ticket. Do we occasionally disagree on the finer points of policy? Of course. But that kind of give and take is essential to our working relationship. It helps keep us honest.”

“Then be honest with me now,” Savannah said, elbows on the knees of her tasteful grey pantsuit. “There’s a rumor going around that you’re going to run independently of President Weir in the next election. True or false?”

John glanced at his team, trying not to let any panic show on his face. He got nothing but open-mouthed stares back, and a scowl from Rodney. Shit. No-one was supposed to know about that yet. Had Elizabeth leaked something? Or more likely, Kavanagh?

“Mr. Vice President?”

Rodney shrugged, so there was no help from that quarter. Well, in for a penny, in for a pound.

“I’d love to know who started that rumor,” John said, trying for amiable and relaxed when he was feeling anything but. It was too soon to talk about the next election. “In the interests of honesty, I have to say yes. I won’t be running for a second term on the President’s ticket.”

Cam and Nora were already on their phones and walking out of John’s line of sight. The press was going to swarm.

“May I ask why you’ve made this decision, which seems to indicate that things between you and the President aren’t as amiable as you’d like us to believe?”

“Like I said before, I have nothing but respect for President Weir. I never could have gotten here without her support.”

“But?” Savannah prompted.

“But…there are limits to what the Vice President can do. I want to make good on everything I promised during the campaign, but I can reasonably only do so if I’m President myself.”

John knew he was treading a fine line. He couldn’t afford to publicly cut his ties with Liz or cast any aspersions on the job she was doing, but just the act of removing himself from her ticket for the next campaign was a demonstration of his lack of support. If he didn’t win the nomination and the presidency, Liz could make his life as a politician incredibly unbearable.

“And what is it you’d bring to the table as Commander-in-Chief?” Savannah asked.

John looked for Nora but she was gone. They hadn’t prepared anything for this, and he wasn’t too keen on working off the cuff without a prepared statement. And of course the only speech that he could bring immediately to mind was the one given by a fake president in an alien invasion movie. Crap.

“Independence,” he said without thinking.

Rodney clapped a hand to his face. John mentally scrambled for something that didn’t sound ridiculous.

“Independence from the kind of fear and misinformation that keeps this country from reaching its true potential. We’ve become divided as a nation, which weakens us across the board. We need to declare independence from corruption, from greed, from hate. The United States has such great potential. I’d love to help us take the first steps we need in order to reach it.”

Someone offstage clapped, and Rodney had a calculating expression on his face. John just hoped he hadn’t embarrassed himself too much.

Thankfully his interview wrapped up shortly after that, and once the cameras stopped rolling Savannah gave him a big hug. 

“You’ve got my vote,” she said with a grin.

*o*o*o*

John’s interview went viral. Parts of his Independence speech started showing up on t-shirts, as memes, and even graffiti. Nora reported that his numbers had gone through the roof, particularly when some media outlets paired the speech with those pictures of him from the bombing, covered in dust and holding little Tanya Negron.

It turned out to have been a huge turn-on for Rodney. They’d been having a lot of pretty spectacular sex.

“You need to start thinking about a running mate,” Rodney said after one such vigorous encounter.

John lay sprawled on the bed, trying to catch his breath. “Your pillow talk needs work.”

“I’m serious. The second name on your ticket could make or break your campaign. I think you should look at a woman.”

“What?” John propped himself up on one arm. “Why a woman?”

“If you choose a man there’ll be a pocket of voters who’ll think you’re gay for him. You choose a woman, that concern goes out the window.”

“I don’t think –”

“You also need someone who’s a rock-solid hetero with good family values, who won’t come across as blindly supporting the gay agenda that people worry you’re going to start pushing.”

John flopped back down. “You’ve given this a lot of thought, I see.”

“That’s my job,” Rodney reminded him. He cupped John’s face, turned his head. “You can win this, John. You _should_ win this.”

“You just want to bang a POTUS,” John replied with a smirk. 

“I just want to bang you.” 

Rodney leaned in for a kiss, and John knew nothing else mattered. He and Rodney were together, and John wasn’t allowing for even the smallest margin of error as far as that was concerned.

Win or lose the election, he’d already gotten what he really wanted.

*o*o*o*

[](https://www.flickr.com/photos/156598319@N08/40493650323/in/dateposted-friend/)

**Author's Note:**

>  **AN:** What I don’t know about politics is everything. And I’ll admit I did most of this on the fly with very little research. But it’s supposed to be more fun than factual. All mistakes are mine, but since I’m cool with them I hope you will be too. ::grins:: Also, if you’ve never watched _Veep_ you really should. It’s crazy and hilarious! My binge-watching is what inspired this fic.
> 
> Thank you to nagi_schwarz for the last-minute beta. You're the best! All last-minutes tweaks and mistakes are mine.


End file.
